


Whiskey Burning

by KittyAug, KittyAugust (KittyAug)



Series: Of Hunters and Hellblazers [3]
Category: Constantine (TV), Hellblazer & Related Fandoms, Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom John Constantine, Constandean, Crossover Pairings, First Time Topping, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, M/M, Top Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-02 23:00:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2829158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyAug/pseuds/KittyAug, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyAug/pseuds/KittyAugust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Christo,” the trench coat wearing guy said, real slow like he was tasting each letter, and leaning deep into Dean’s personal space. “See, not a demon neither.” Then he winked, all coy confidence. </p><p>“Congratulations?” Dean said as dryly as he could manage when he was being looked at like that. </p><p>“Name’s John Constantine,” the guy said thrusting his hand out for Dean to shake. And shake his hand is exactly what a normal person would have done. But apparently Dean Winchester wasn’t capable of behaving like a normal person. </p><p>Instead, Dean choked on his whiskey and then completely failed at covering it up with a cough. John <i>Constantine</i>? The honest to god Hellblazer? No friggin’ way.</p><hr/><p>The one in which a 20 year old Dean Winchester meets John Constantine for the first time. Then things get way too hot way too quick. And Dean might be a little out of his depth...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whiskey Burning

“So, which one’s the siren?” said a rough English accent behind Dean’s left ear. He almost jumped out of his skin but he was too well trained to startle like that in public.

“You?” Dean snarked while looking the guy up and down. He wasn’t really thinking about what he just implied, about himself more than the guy in the trench coat, until it was way too late. He hoped he didn’t blush.

The man was tall, almost as tall as Dean, blond with brown eyes which was unusual. He had a certain sharp jaw sex appeal but not classically handsome. Stubble and a tie he hadn’t bothered to tighten. Probably not a siren to be honest. Though who knew with Dean’s messed up psyche.

“Nope,” the guy said and smirked his way right into Dean’s space. “Nice to know you think I might be though.” He nodded to his own perfectly human reflection in the mirror behind the bar. The very mirror that Dean had, in fact, been using to try and check out suspected sirens. He managed to lean even closer into Dean’s space and said “Christo,” real slow like he was tasting each letter. “See, not a demon neither.” And he winked. He goddamn winked!

“Congratulations?” Dean said as dryly as he could manage when he was being looked at like that. Even ruling that out didn’t explain how the guy knew what Dean was hunting, though. Or that he was hunting at all in fact. Another hunter maybe? He didn’t dress the part it but you never knew with the Brits.

“Name’s John Constantine,” the guy said thrusting his hand out for Dean to shake. And shake his hand is exactly what a _normal_ person probably would have done. But apparently Dean Winchester wasn’t going to be capable of behaving like a normal person tonight.

Instead, Dean choked on his whiskey and then completely failed at covering it up with a cough. John Constantine? The motherfucking Hellblazer? No friggin’ way.

John had caught his gaze and an extremely smug smile was spreading across his angular face. Dean realized he still hadn’t responded and _finally_ shook the guy’s hand with a gruff “Dean Winchester,” in response.

Constantine’s eyes narrowed for a moment. “Any relation to a John Winchester?”

“Yeah, he’s my dad,” Dean said cautiously. He was on the other side of town scoping out a more likely option for the siren.

Surely even his dad wouldn’t be stupid enough to get on this guy’s bad side? Constantine tangled with demons like most hunters dealt with ghosts. No, even that wasn’t right, more like how most hunters dealt with friggin’ bunnies! People whispered about Babylonian gods and guardian angels. Some of it had to be exaggeration but in Dean’s experience those kinds of rumors usually had dark and painful inspiration. Constantine wasn’t even really a hunter in the normal sense. Technically he said he was an exorcist and a black magician. A 'Master of the Dark Arts' even. The kind of man who lived in the grey. And it was a dark kinda grey – like house fire smoke. Even Dean understood that he wasn’t the kind of person you wanted to cross.

Constantine just chuckled though so whatever he thought of John Winchester it couldn’t be bad enough to hex his kid over.

“You even old enough to be in a pub, lad?” the exorcist asked.

“Yes,” Dean lied.

It wasn’t even that big of a lie, he would be 21 in a few months. He just resented the comment on principle. Constantine affected a scruffy demeanor and he’d seen a lot but he was in his late 20s or very early 30s at most. Although, Dean supposed, if you’ve looked the King of Hell in the eye then maybe everyone’s a kid. Did hearing a Hellhound howl change you that much? Did it age you?

“Good.” Constantine slid onto the bar stool next to Dean. Leaned over the hunter to wave at the bartender for another round. “Your daddy owes me a favour,” he said. He was close enough that Dean could feel the Hellblazer’s breath against his cheek. “And I’d like t’ keep it that way.”

Constantine pulled back sudden and smooth when the whiskey arrived. He was still grinning though. It left Dean’s skin cold from lack of proximity but tingling from the look in his eye. Damn that was disconcerting.

Dean watched the way the magus moved. With all this pent up animal grace. Throwing his whole body into his actions but still more controlled than he appeared. Tossing his head back as the shot of whiskey slid down his throat. Dean swallowed too in response to the movement.

Constantine caught him looking and cocked an eyebrow. Was that Hellfire in his eyes? Dean should look away and put more space between them. But damn he didn’t want to. That’s when Dean knew it. Knew in his bones that he was absolutely fucked tonight. And it was going to be awesome.

Dean grinned, wide and slow at the older guy. Oh hell yes. Or should that be Hell yes? He was going to do everything in his power to hook up with the Hellblazer tonight. If it was the last time he did something like this it would totally be worth it. He didn’t even really mind if his dad found out and _that_ was saying something.

Dean had picked up guys before. But not for his own entertainment. And not since he got old enough to hustle pool more often than himself. He suspected the rules were a bit different. But Dean Winchester didn’t back down from a challenge. And he’d picked up enough chicks with nothing more than a predatory smile and a ‘sure thing, sweetheart’ that he was pretty sure he knew what he was doing.

Dean leaned forward back into Constantine’s space; mirroring the exorcist’s move from earlier. Bringing their faces closer than was normally appropriate and holding eye contact as he spoke: “So, why did you come over here? Think I might be a siren too?”

“Nah,” Constantine said. Dean tried to look offended and Constantine laughed. His laugh was a short controlled little thing but it still shook his body and it was smoke rough. Damn that was hot.

“Don’t worry, you’re more’n pretty enough, luv,” Constantine said and signaled for another drink. “S’not a siren though,” he explained. “You were being fairly obvious with the mirror so I know that's what you thought. Gotta be a hunter.” He shrugged and looked at Dean critically before continuing, “Can’t blame ja, the _modus operandi_ is pretty much the same with a succubus and a siren. But the _succubus_ is a demon. Possesses some poor blighter. By fucking ‘em in their sleep no less. Nasty business.” He shook his head, probably in sympathy for the 'poor blighters' in question.

A demon? Shit. Dean was not prepared for demons. If his dad had known that he probably would have left Dean at home with Sammy rather than letting him scope out one of the bars they thought the thing was using to find its prey. Or at least insisted they stick together.

Something of his confusion must have showed on Dean’s face. He was pretty sure he even bit his lip. Damn it.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it mate. Already sent the bitch back to Hell half an hour ago.” Constantine paused to give the bartender a wide flirtatious smile when she brought over two more shots. “So,” he said turning all his Hellfire hot attention back to Dean. He raised one glass and pushed the other towards the hunter. “Looks like we’re off the clock.”

Dean smiled and tossed back the shot. Oh fuck yes. This was on.

0oOo0

It turned out that Dean didn’t have to put much effort into picking up John Constantine. He’d expected a hard and fast tumble in the men’s room. Maybe the Impala if they made it that far. But somehow they ended up back at John’s hotel.

Constantine finally shrugged out of the trench coat and threw it across the back of a chair. Dean followed suit dumping his leather jacket in the same chair. Then he sat down to remove his boots.

It was a nice enough hotel. A lot better than the places the Winchesters generally stayed but not nice enough to attract unwanted attention. John had wandered into the little kitchenette and turned around to offer Dean a beer.

Dean shrugged. He could take or leave the drink but now they were alone he knew what he really wanted. He stood up and sauntered over to accept the beer. Stepping right in front of the Hellblazer and leaving less than two inches between them. They were eye to eye which was kind of hot.

He put his drink down unopened and instead took Constantine’s own drink from his hands, opened the bottle with his ring and took a slow sip. Constantine hadn’t taken his eyes off him since he started moving. He was smirking, of course, but he seemed happy enough to let Dean take charge. For now. He watched Dean’s hands, lips and throat following each deliberate action exactly as intended.

Dean licked his lips and couldn’t help the thrill when Hellblazer’s breath hitched. He leaned past the other man to place the bottle on the bench behind them. Coming close but still not quite touching. He effectively had Constantine pinned against the kitchen. But the older guy was just watching with intent brown eyes and waiting for him to make the first real move. Or maybe run. Run was still an option for either of them.

There was a tiny little voice, which sounded a lot like John Winchester, in the back of his mind that said he should run. Run from this dirty twisted part of himself. But he was past caring. Had been since he introduced himself. Maybe even before that. And this was the actual Hellblazer he was talking about. How often did a chance like that come along?

Dean ran a hand carefully up Constantine’s tie and started to untie the messy half-windsor. All without dropping eye contact. He was still moving slow. Giving his partner a chance to back out even though it was clear that was the same reason Constantine hadn't moved yet.

This close he could smell sandalwood soap and whiskey under the dark smoky scent of those sickly sweet cigarettes. He didn’t think he would ever be able to smell clove smoke again without getting turned on. They hadn’t even kissed yet and they were both breathing unevenly.

When Constantine didn’t flinch from the intimacy Dean let go of his tie, still tucked into the collar, and dropped both hands to the counter. One either side of the exorcist’s hips. Pressed a thigh between the other man’s legs and let every ounce of blood hot desire slide into his smile.

Like this he could feel the Hellblazer’s erection against his leg – and wasn’t that a fucking prize.

He wasn’t exactly sure who kissed whom. It happened too fast. After all that hot slow build. Suddenly their lips met and tongues tangled. Constantine had a hand on his neck carding into his hair. And the other on his hip. Not quite on his ass yet but hinting at it hard.

Dean brought his own hands up to run along Constantine’s sides. Soft cotton of his dress shirt over wiry muscle making Dean shiver.

Dean had kissed exactly three other guys in his life. The first had been another boy at a school in Omaha – short, rough, and inexperienced. One had been The Incident that Dean avoided thinking about at all costs. And the third had been a john who paid him a grand for the one night and the ‘full experience.’

This was like none of those. And it wasn’t like kissing a girl either.

There were the obvious differences. Like lips being dry, warm and smooth, no lipstick. And the rough tantalising burn of stubble and a solid jaw against Dean’s own. And the height. At 6’1” Dean seldom met girls he didn’t need to bend down to meet.

But there was more to it than that. A bitter passion that only another hunter could understand. And something else that was all John Constantine. The desperate sensuality of a damned man who had seen where he was going but still refused to give up. Dragging out each moment of pleasure and milking it for all it was worth. Fighting to hold on to earthly desire and earthly passion with every action - including this one. Including kissing Dean Winchester for all he was worth.

Dean reached for Constantine’s belt pulling hard on the buckle. But John caught one of his wrists and pulled back to shake his head. What the fuck? Talk about mixed signals.

Again Dean’s thoughts must have shown on his face. Because Constantine chuckled at him and leaned forward to whisper in Dean’s ear. “No rush luv. I haven’t had something as gorgeous as you in my bed in a very long time. And I’m going to take my sweet time.” The hand still in Dean’s hair tightened and tugged to expose more of his neck. “I reckon I can get you to come screaming my name. Want to find out?” And dear god that was definitely Hellfire in those dark eyes.

If the hot breath on his ear hadn’t sent a shiver of longing down his spine then those words were guaranteed to. Dean actually fucking whimpered when he felt hot biting kisses working down his neck. And the sweet drag of whiskered skin on the way back up.

“You can sure as hell try,” Dean said. It was meant to be a challenge. But he was panting and it came out like a request.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Constantine moved with serpentine grace. Arching up against Dean’s body and pressing him into another crushing kiss. He still had a hold of Dean’s wrist. Running little patterns with his thumb against the soft skin. Now he used it for leverage half spinning them and dragging Dean toward the bed on the other side of the room. All without breaking the kiss.

When they reached the foot of the bed Dean got another surprise. They stopped and the kiss slowed right down. Turned from hot and heavy to sweet and sensual. Constantine slid his hands up Dean’s body and pushed at the edges of his plaid over shirt. Dean let it drop to the ground then brought his own hands up to pull loose the exorcist’s shirt. Then sliding up and exploring the sensation of hard skin under soft cotton again. Could cotton dress shirts be a kink? If it could then he had definitely found yet another to add to his growing list.

He’d already undone the tie earlier but it still hung around John’s neck. Dean wound a hand around each end of the fabric and used it to pull them flush against each other. He enjoyed the hot friction of their bodies for a moment. All hard muscle even with the fabric still between them.

He could already guess what he would find under the Hellblazer’s scruffy exterior. He might not be a hunter in the strictest sense but he still spent enough time running for his life (or running head on into danger) that his body would be hardened by it. Unlike any woman and most of the men that Dean had been with. For some reason the thought of a body that mirrored his own solid edges, and for the same reasons, was incredibly hot.

Dean backed up against the bed. Then he used his grip on the tie to pull Constantine down on top of him in one fluid movement. He was rewarded with that deep smoky chuckle that was already starting to speak straight to his dick.

He borrowed one of Constantine’s moves again. Letting his stubble scratch against the other man’s neck as he kissed his way down. He started working open the buttons on John’s business shirt. And was this actually the least practical demon hunting outfit Dean had ever seen? Maybe. But in this moment it was fucking hot. And coming off right frigging now. So he didn’t care.

He took his time with each button. Dropping a small kiss onto each inch of skin as it was exposed. Constantine’s skin tasted like a bizarre combination of fresh linen and smoke. Once he had the first few buttons undone he kept his hands working them free but moved his lips along the other man’s chest. Exploring all the new flesh before him. One of Constantine’s hands was in Dean’s hair again still a little gentle for Dean’s preference.

“I’m not going to break,” Dean growled through a mouth full of salt sweet skin. He used his teeth for emphasis. The hand tightened in his hair and the other scratched into his back. Dean moaned out loud. They were hardly even started but he couldn’t help it. Something about this guy just got him going. In all the right and a few fantastically wrong ways. Dean could already feel that precious tension building.

He finally had the shirt completely open so glanced up through his lashes. Constantine was breathing hard and had his lip between his teeth. When their eyes met the heat shifted again. Dean pulled off his own tee-shirt in one clean motion, now desperate for skin on skin contact. He fell back onto the bad and Constantine chased him down. They were kissing again. Back to their initial crushing pace. And Dean bucked up into the kisses seeking contact as much as friction.

The hot slide of skin on skin sent burning sparks through Dean’s body. And God, he was so hard he ached. And his jeans were cutting in. But dealing with that meant stopping this. His brain wasn’t really working enough for a decision like that. He arched up into a scratching caress instead and bit into Constantine’s lip silently urging him harder, faster, with his own need. Constantine bit him back, softer but still hard enough that he bucked up again.

It felt like they just made out for hours. But after a while the exorcist was on the move. Kissing and biting his way inexorably down Dean’s chest. Catching a nipple between his teeth and humming a muffled laugh at Dean’s eager reaction. And working his way further south. The soft cotton of his now loose and open shirt tickled Dean’s sides. A soft contrast to the firm skin and biting ministrations dragging down his body.

Dean twitched and gasped when Constantine laid a hand on his belt. The hand was still but so damn close to where he wanted him. Wet licking kisses were working their way along the line of his belt. And Dean held his breath when he realised exactly where this was heading. The Hellblazer kept going, sliding down until he was on his knees on the floor at the foot of the bed. Then he paused with torturously good scratch of stubble against Dean’s stomach.

Dean propped himself up to see what was going on. Constantine had stopped to catch his eye and smirk at him. Waiting. For what? Consent? Well yeah, probably actually. That was something else no girl had ever bothered with. Dean nodded unable to form words through his desperate anticipation. Only just biting back another breathless whimper. The motherfucking Hellblazer wanted to suck his cock. Seriously. How was this happening?

He was rewarded with that damned sinners grin and, finally, his belt and fly being undone. Constantine was kissing into Dean’s inner thigh. Even through the denim it felt like pure temptation. Then his jeans were being pulled off and the magus gave up the tease in favor diving in.

And that right there must be some of the Hellblazer’s famous black magic. Nothing legit could feel that damn good. Fuck.

Dean had received a lot of blowjobs in his 20 years, although they had all been from women. And he’d given quite a few too, when necessary. But this. This was amazing. Oh god this guy knew what he was doing. Oh fucking god.

Constantine and pulled back for a moment. “Not quite,” he said. What? Shit. Dean wondered how much of that he said aloud. John was pretty much constantly smirking in some variation so that wasn’t going to give it away.

Dean flopped back panting. Letting the bitter sweet edge drift away again. Receding back to deep tension and a racing pulse.

Constantine was crawling back up his prone body. Sliding his chest against Dean’s aching cock and he made his way up to kiss the hunter slow and intense. Stretching his whole weight across Dean’s exposed flesh.

“I didn’t know they taught you to tease in Hell,” Dean muttered.

“I haven’t been to Hell, Winchester. I’ve only looked through the doors a time or three.” He rolled to the side but kept tracing patterns on Dean’s skin and occasionally running his thumb across a nipple or digging his fingers into Dean’s side. Just keeping him on the edge. It wasn’t over but he’d pulled back for a minute. Letting them both cool down and dragging the whole thing out even further.

Dean decided he was sick of waiting. He sat up and slid his hands over Constantine’s skin and pulling him back into another kiss. Trying to communicate his desire through action and drag the other man to a similar edge. Constantine didn’t seem adverse and slipped out of his shirt before rolling back into the kiss. Dean would have been sad to see the soft cotton go if it hadn’t revealed even more pale skin. And the tattoos.

One in particular along the Hellblazer’s ribs looked familiar. It was Hebrew or something. Some script he’d seen Bobby Singer or Pastor Jim using. Another reminder that the man in his arms was one of the most feared demon hunters in the world.

Dean turned the kiss from hot to furious. Even though he hadn’t come he could still taste his own skin and sweat along with the whiskey and smoke. He flipped them. And even though John was older and might be stronger he let him. Even going as far as stretching his arms out above his head and letting Dean hold him down with one hand. While he removed Constantine’s belt with the other. Throwing it across the room in his haste. Dean didn’t waste any more time. Shoving his hand into the other guy’s pants while kissing him. Going for rough and smooth all at once.

Constantine was just as hard as Dean was. And, it seemed, uncut. Thank you John Constantine, there was another gay kink Dean hadn’t realised he had until just now. John let him explore for a while. Discovering the slightly unfamiliar mechanics. And enjoying the hot velveteen skin slide over rock-hard arousal.

The exorcist was breathing hard when he captured Dean’s wrist. Stopping his hand and slowing the kiss to a halt. He lifted himself and leaned in to nibble on Dean’s ear. And then, again, with the spine tingling breath across his ear and neck. “How do you want me?” Constantine whispered.

It was like he was reading Dean like a book. Or some kind of cheap porn mag anyway. But then the words sank in through the hot haze of tingling breath and husky voice. How do you want me? Fuck. He hadn’t even stopped to consider that there might be more than one option.

Now, for the first time that night Dean stopped to think about what he was doing and felt every minute of that ten year age gap. Every second of inexperience. It hadn’t occurred to him that he might have to come out (ha) and ask for what he wanted. Hadn’t occurred to him that fucking John Constantine might even be on the table.

“Yeah, ah. Whatever you want, man. I’m easy.” And wasn’t that the truth.

Constantine gave him another lust dark smirk and stood up. Leaving Dean naked and still slightly uncertain on the king sized bed.

“I either did something very good or I’m going to have to do something very bad to pay for your existence Dean Winchester,” Constantine said. The smirk even turned a little wry. He pulled a condom out of his back pocket before losing his trousers and shoes. How had he had shoes on this whole time? He threw the foil packet to Dean who almost fumbled the catch. Then rummaged around on the bedside table until he found what he was looking for.

Dean managed to be distracted from his sudden onset apprehension, to admire the man now standing naked before him. He seemed totally unconcerned by his own skin. If anything he seemed even more confident naked and exposed. And, as far as Dean could figure, about to ask a 20 year old hunter to fuck him. He was still in his element. Still in control. Sex was just another kind of magic. His body just another weapon or tool. He was incredible. Breathtakingly so. Dean was a little jealous and a lot turned on.

Dean was moving before even he realised it. Constantine was still standing and Dean was kneeling on the bed. Making him a tiny bit shorter than the other man. He buried his hand in the Englishman’s blond hair and pulled him down. Kissing him hard. Trying to claim a little part of that feral magic for himself. Even if it was only for tonight. Constantine seemed genuinely startled for a second but he soon got on board. Pushing Dean over and flowing back across him like liquid sex.

If Dean thought chest to chest had been good this was better. Every point of contact exploded in aching hot sparks.

It was Constantine who rolled them this time. Pulling Dean up on top of him. Pausing to run a hand down Dean’s cheek and along the bow of his mouth. “If I didn’t know better, I’d tell you you’re an angel,” Constantine mumbled into Dean’s skin. From anyone else it would be coy and saccharine. But from the Hellblazer it sounded broken. Raw and more real than Dean had yet seen him.

Dean did the only thing he could in that moment. Capturing the mage’s lips with his and kissing him back into the moment. Dragging him back to corporeal abandon instead of metaphorical abandonment.

Dean’s suspicions were soon confirmed. He was going to lose his gay top virginity (was that the last virginity he had?) to John Constantine. He was terrified but he did what Winchesters always do when they’re afraid. He played it off and played through the pain.

The lube was citrus flavored, and thus scented. The smell mixed with the smoke, salt, and musky sex of John’s flesh. Dean was a sensual guy. He already knew that citrus smell was going to be indelibly tied to one of the most erotic experiences of his life.

Of course Dean had been fucked. And he’d had sex with a lot of women. But this was different. It wasn’t like hooking, where he would have prepped himself and had only occasionally enjoyed it. And it wasn’t even anything like gay porn.

Constantine was obviously enjoying every second. He lay himself out in the middle of the bed and dragged Dean down to meet him. He kissed the hunter, pulled him close, encouraged and moved with him. And even though he was the one taking it he was also the one muttering soothing nonsense to Dean and kissing like his soul depended on it. Dean watched in awe as the Englishman took his fingers. Every thrust and twist.

One minute Constantine would be watching him, guiding him, and urging him on. The next he had his head thrown back and back arched. Writhing against every pleasurable shock. And that was absolutely, without a doubt, the hottest thing Dean Winchester had ever seen. The way this powerful man could surrender his body. Take what he wanted and give as good as he got. It tugged at desires Dean had never known he had. Fed a hunger he had denied for a long time. He could hardly breathe. And even though he was ‘on top’ he felt like he had long since ceded control to the creature spread out before him.

Constantine pulled Dean down into yet another world shattering kiss. “I’m ready,” he whispered into Dean’s lips. “Fuck me hard ghost hunter.” And goddamn that smirk. It was going to be the death of him. Not some wendigo or backwoods ghost. No John Constantine’s smile was what was going to kill Dean Winchester. And in that moment he didn’t give a damn.

He shook as he rolled on the condom. Which was stupid. He was Dean Winchester. He had done this thousands of times. It wasn’t going to be _that_ different. Was it?

He slicked himself up and moved forward. Meeting the older man’s eyes and smug smile. And god he couldn’t handle that right now. He was already so near the edge. He looked away. Focused on the task at hand. Treat it like a job. Get the job done. Get the guy off first then deal with what was happening. It was for totally different reasons but maybe the tactic would work. Hold off as long as he could. Could he even think about John Constantine as a john (ha johns named John– actually _no_ that comparison was gonna get too sick too quick).

He just had to line up and sink in. Find the sweet spot and work it. He could do this. He understood what it was like. Good and bad. He could make this good. So damn good. If he could just hold off.

“Oh fucking god.” And, yes, that was Dean’s voice. Shit.

“You’re really not,” Constantine chuckled from beneath him.

“You sure?” Dean’s snarky nature saved him yet again. And, well, the semi-compliment was well deserved. This was top ten easy, top five maybe. Fuckit, only Rhonda really beat this and she had been one dirty girl.

“Pretty _damned_ sure,” the Hellblazer muttered and pulled Dean down to kiss him. The movement pulled him deeper into the tight heat of the exorcist’s body. And _fuck_ it felt good. The long slow build finally paying off. But paying off too quickly. God, Winchester, think about something unsexy. Sammy doing homework. Nope, wrong. Grave digging. Un-sexiest thing ever. Fuck.

He was breathing hard. Constantine was just watching him with nothing more than a flush to his cheeks to give away that they were going down the same road. Still smirking. Bastard. Dean licked his lips and shifted experimentally. It wasn’t actually that different from fucking a girl. If he ignored _who_ he was fucking that was. It was tighter. Just barely this side of painful, in fact. But god was it awesome.

“Move, Winchester,” Constantine growled from under him. And then he shifted driving himself down hard on Dean’s cock. And… _fuck_. Fucking fuck. They were kissing again. Fast and frantic. Dean was finally adjusting. And dammit wasn’t that meant to be the other way around? He could do this. He could fucking rock this, dammit.

He started to shift his weight. Trying not to focus on the hot slick slide. He took a deep breath and focused on his partner’s face. Watching each bitten lip. Hearing each hitched breath. Searching for just the right angle. And trying not to think too much about how damn good it felt. How each hitched breath, and bitten lip meant a shuddering jolt of burning pleasure.

Constantine’s fingers dug into his hips. Urging him forward. Faster and deeper. He knew he might not be getting fucked but he was still going to go home with bruises. He smiled and caught the Hellblazer’s lips again.

He felt it when he found it. Constantine’s leg, hitched up but still wound around one of his, gripped hard. And his head rolled back. Exposing the line of his throat and jaw. Dean buried his face into the other man’s shoulder and bit down. Marking the pale flesh just to drag out the painfully erotic sound the other man made.

He knew what he was doing now. His confidence was back. And he was moving with more determination. Following each encouraging motion or bitten off command. Hunting down the moaning and hip bucking reactions that told him he was burning down the right track.

Dean worked a hand, still citrus slick, down between their bodies. Pulling and sliding in time with his hips. Just wanting a little more reaction. Adding little more skin to skin drag. Sinking a little more into this twisting, heart clenching friction.

Soon he wasn’t sure if he could get any “faster,” or “deeper” or “harder, damn you Winchester.” But he was sure as Hell trying.

Constantine came with a cry in a language Dean didn’t know.

And Dean followed him down the cliff of no return. The hard ball of aching tension finally breaking as the exorcist clenched firm around the hunter in his own release. The orgasm rushed through Dean like a tidal wave. Ripping apart the levies of his self-restraint. He came. Shouting the Hellblazer’s name.

0oOo0

Constantine dragged him into the hotel shower. “No promises luv. Shower sex is more complicated than a Sumerian summoning circle. But I should at least clean you up after _that_ performance.”

It was surprisingly sweet and sensual. Dean’s skin felt tender and the water spray and the lathered slide of skin on skin tingled. Somehow his body managed to find the blood to react and the shower devolved into more making out and a soap slick hand job. And comments about the “bloody brilliant refractory time of youth”. Whatever. It felt amazing so he’d let the comments slide. Like skin on soapy skin.

Even out of the shower there was more kissing. Less purposeful now. More for its own enjoyment than any end goal. Dean thought he could get used to this drawn out indulgence. There was a purity to Constantine’s fleshly decadence. Hold on tight but let go easy.

“I can't control my fingers,” Constantine mumbled into the skin of Dean’s neck and chuckled at himself. Said fingers trailing over Dean's skin. “I can't control my brain.”

“Did you just quote the Ramones? Did you just try and make _punk_ sexy?” Dean laughed. He couldn’t help it.

“You’re a Yank, didn’t think you’d recognise Pistols or the Undertones… or Mucous Membrane-” Constantine stole his post-coital cigarette back from Dean and took a long drag. His eyes were lit with dangerous mischief. “Also, neither of us is a teenager. So Teenage Kicks ain’t quite right. Right?”

“Right,” Dean said rolling his eyes. He wasn’t totally sure what inane argument he had just agreed to. But just then he was willing to agree to a lot. He was pretty sure John Constantine was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [tumblr](http://kittyaugust.tumblr.com/) which I'm still learning to use - <http://kittyaugust.tumblr.com/>
> 
> This is only my second time writing boy on boy smut. And my first time with something this explicit. I suppose Dean's uncertainty is a reflection of my own. Feedback welcome!
> 
> * * *
> 
> Also, just FYI Mucous Membrane is John Constantine's punk band. Thus why he finds the idea of Dean knowing about them funny. And the Ramones song he quotes it _I Wanna Be Sedated_ \- this will be relevant later.


End file.
